


Minerva, Queen of Scots

by Mellaaaa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aristocracy, F/M, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:42:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29648721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellaaaa/pseuds/Mellaaaa
Summary: She was a woman destined for the crown. They stripped her of everything she had because of it.But Minerva McGonagall was named after a war goddess. And she was a goddamn warrior.•••Harry Potter AUCross-posted on Wattpad and FF.Net
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Minerva McGonagall
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	1. Aristocratic Tendencies

_I DO NOT OWN THE HARRY POTTER FRANCHISE OR ANYTHING THAT YOU MAY RECOGNIZE FROM SAID FANDOM. THIS IS JUST FOR MY OWN ENTERTAINMENT AND I DO NOT PROFIT OFF OF THIS IN ANY WAY. I ALSO DON’T OWN ANY OF THE SONGS USED HERE._

•••  
  


_ THIS STORY IS AN AU AND VERY LOOSELY FOLLOWS CANON. IT IS ALSO RATED M FOR SAFETY. PLEASE ENJOY! _

** Part One: The Heiress **

_** I was reading Slim Aarons ** _

_** And I got to thinking that I thought ** _

_** Maybe I’d get less stressed if I was ** _

_** Tested less like all of these debutants ** _

**•October 4, 1935•  
** _Rose_ _Castle_

Lady Minerva McGonagall was born on a Friday, coming into the world screaming her little lungs out. Madam Olga held out the child to her father. 

King Malcom McGonagall hesitantly accepted the bundle the midwife handed him. He held her gently, fearing he would break her. 

“Eileen, she’s a girl.” Malcom whispered to his wife, who smiled tiredly. 

“It seems so,” she answered, catching her breath. The Queen reached out a hand to the bundle her husband held in arms. She ran a gentle finger against the babe’s soft cheek. 

“We have a Princess,” Malcom whispered tenderly, pressing a light kiss to his newborn daughter’s forehead. 

“Do you fear she’s going to be a Squib?” Eileen asked quietly, sitting up a bit straighter against the pillows and folded her hands onto her lap. The King looked up sharply. 

“Is that really what you think of now?” He asked in shock. “If our daughter won’t possess any magical talent?” 

The Scottish Queen shrugged helplessly.

“It happens to everyone. Even pureblooded families like ourselves,” she defended. 

“She is still our daughter,” Malcom ground out through gritted teeth. “Don’t you wish to hold her?”

“I will bear you a son,” Eileen said confidently, ignoring her husband’s question. “And he will be your heir. We can marry her off to a foreign Prince. It would make a great ally for Scotland...” she started to trail off. 

“Will you cease?” Malcom demanded loudly, and the baby in his arms started to fuss.

“Oh darling,” he cooed, rocking her gently in hopes she would calm. And within a few seconds, she had. “We need to give you a name,” the King whispered playfully, relishing in the babe’s gurgle. 

“Delilah?” Eileen suggested, and Malcom pursed his lips in thought. “Elizabeth?” She threw out, still no verbal response from him. 

“Isabella!” The Queen gasped in delight, clapping her hands together once. “Let’s name her Isabella.” She insisted, a large smile stretched across her face. 

Malcom shook his head in disagreement. 

“She doesn’t seem like any of those names,” he said softly. 

“Well, you name her then,” Eileen huffed in annoyance. 

Ignoring his wife’s comments and mutterings, he stared intently at his little girl. 

“I’ll think about it,” Malcom responded, never taking his eyes off the child. 

“Get some rest,” he told his wife softly, finally looking up. “I’ll make sure she gets taken care of.”

Eileen nodded tiredly and fell back into the bed. She fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. 

After softly kissing his wife’s temple, the King tiptoed out of their chambers, closing the door and put a Silencing Charm around the room so she could rest undisturbed. 

As he walked down the castle's long corridors, he glanced back at the child. 

"Whatever shall we name you?" He murmured gently to her. "You are going to need a name, I'm sure you wouldn't want your Papa calling you Baby Girl for the rest of your life. Would you?"

His daughter merely stared back at him with big green eyes and Malcom chuckled softly, pressing a light kiss to her exposed forehead. 

The King pushed the heavy doors of the castle's library open and immediately lit up the fireplace. 

"Keena," Malcom called out and with a 'pop' a little house elf with long ears that nearly touched the floor had appeared.

"Sir-King Malcom called for Keena?" The elf asked in a high pitched voice. Malcom nodded.

"Would you be so kind as to fetch the Princess' bassinet?" He requested, and Keena nodded enthusiastically. The little elf came back as quickly as she left, this time a white bassinet appearing with her. 

Stroking his daughter's soft head tenderly, he placed her into the bed and watched as she yawned quietly. He continued to stare at her, awed at how this little thing would love him unconditionally. 

He rocked her slowly, and the steady movement of the bassinet had lulled the girl into a slumber. 

"Can Keena get Sir-King or Princess anything else?" The house elf whispered and Malcom shook his head. 

"That would be all Keena. Thank you," he whispered back. The sound of a quiet pop had been the only indication she left and it was Malcom's cue to get up. Groaning silently as he hauled himself off the floor.

He padded along the extensive library, he picked up the first book within reach.

_ The Figures of Roman Mythology _ ,  the title read. Although not a particular book Malcom would normally read, he shrugged to himself and opened the book. 

_ The Goddess of wisdom, medicine, commerce, handicrafts, poetry, the arts and war. Minerva was originally the Goddess of crafts, but is known to be the Italian counterpart of the Grecian goddess Athena.  _

"Minerva," Malcom said to himself quietly. "Minerva." He repeated. The King looked to the bassinet barely six feet away and gazed at it pensively. Looking back at the book in his hands, he decided to read on. 

Almost a half hour later, the babe started to fuss. And no matter what Malcom did, the child still cried and screamed.

Giving up nearly fifteen minutes later, Malcom made his way back to his wife with their daughter in his arms. He opened the door slowly to find the Queen curled up against one of the many pillows that had been placed during her labor. He gently shushed the child in his arms as he bent to wake his wife up. 

"Eileen," he said softly. "Darling." Malcom placed a hand on her shoulder, and she stirred. 

"Mm, what is it? Is it the baby?" She asked sleepily, eyes still shut as she blindly reached out for her husband. 

"I think she's hungry," he told the Queen and she nodded, blinking away the sleep from her eyes. She held out her arms for the child. Malcom placed their daughter into Eileen's arms, a large hand supporting her head as his wife began to pull down one side of her gown. 

"Have you thought of a name?" Eileen asked softly as the baby started to eat. 

"Minerva," Malcom offered up as he thought back to the book he had been reading earlier.

"Like the goddess?" The Queen asked for confirmation, to which her husband nodded. "I think I like it," she mused, looking down at the child. "Minerva."

Eileen smiled up at her husband. "Minerva McGonagall," she declared proudly. "That's her name."

Malcom chuckled softly. "She'll do Scotland proud the day she becomes Queen." 

"What?" His wife asked sharply, her blue eyes narrowed. "Queen?"

He nodded, his face twisted in confusion. "She's my heir."

"How could she be your heir? She's a girl. Women don't inherit." Eileen said heatedly, doing her best not to jostle the newly named Minerva. "I will bear you a son. You don't have to count on her. Whoever she ends up marrying won't really matter, will it? She still gets to keep her title."

"That isn't the point," Malcom snapped. "Minerva is my firstborn. I don't care if she is a girl. I will be making her my heir." He said with finality. 

"You will regret that decision one day," Eileen warned her husband with a snarl. "And if she brings our country to ruin don't say I didn't warn you." 

**•September 1, 1947•**  
 _Rose Castle_

"Papa, what's that Pegasus doing here?" Minerva asked her father, holding a tiny black kitten close to her chest. Malcom looked down and smiled sadly at his daughter.

"It's going to take you to your school," he answered and Minerva's forehead creased in confusion. 

"But aren't I supposed to be taking the Hogwarts Express?" Sighing to himself, Malcom knelt down to his daughter’s height.

“You’re not going to Hogwarts, my darling.” The King finally told her, and Minerva couldn’t help but gasp. The kitten in her arms squirmed. 

“Why not? You went to Hogwarts! So did Mama! Why can’t I?” Protests and questions flowed from her mouth, but the girl immediately quieted when she saw the look on her father’s face.

“We have to keep you safe,” he said softly, smoothing over Minerva’s plait. “You never know who’s out to get our family.”

“But Grindelwald was defeated! Why can’t I go to Hogwarts? Albus Dumbledore works there and he was the one to bring Grindelwald down,” Minerva tried reasoning.

“I know, but your mother worries.” Malcom said gently, placing a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder. “She doesn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“All she worries about is producing you an heir!” Minerva shouted in frustration, and one of the smaller marble statues in the garden had burst into pieces. 

The kitten in her arms mewled loudly, clearly shocked by the loud sound. Minerva scratched the top of the cat’s head gently, and it calmed within a few moments. 

Taking a deep breath to calm herself down this time, Minerva spoke again in a much softer voice.

“If I’m not going to Hogwarts... where am I going?” She asked timidly, hugging her kitten close. 

“Beauxbatons,” her father answered simply. The Princess looked back up in shock. 

“France? You’re sending me to a school an ocean away?” She asked, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. 

“At least you’ll be close,” Malcom tried to convince her. 

“The closest is Hogwarts, Papa.” Minerva bit out through gritted teeth. “Please.” The girl begged softly. 

Malcom shook his head and Minerva sighed in acceptance, bowing her head. 

“That’s my girl,” her father murmured gently, placing a hand at the top of her head. 

The Princess looked up when the Pegasus had neighed and the coach man’s door to the carriage opened. 

“Your Majesties,” the Frenchman addressed respectfully. Both father and daughter has nodded their heads primly in acknowledgement. 

The coachman made his way down from the carriage to pack Minerva’s suitcases away for the trip. 

“Where’s Mama?” Minerva asked, breaking the silence. “I thought she’d be here.” Malcom sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“She’s at luncheon with foreign leaders,” he explained gently. 

“Oh,” was all Minerva could say, fighting her disappointment. Her mother always did this to her, why did it matter so much now?

“Your Royal Highness,” the coach man called out softly, his accent thick. Minerva looked toward the man, nodding. 

“Sir, would you be so kind as to put Oliver in the carriage?” She requested politely, and the man nodded as he took the kitten from her arms. 

Once the coach man was out of ear shot, Minerva turned back to her father and threw her arms around his neck. 

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she whispered into his neck, swallowing a sob. “I’ll write to you every day,” she promised. 

“I love you my girl,” Malcom whispered, cupping her head. 

“I love you too, Papa.” Minerva reluctantly pulled away from their embrace, wiping away any tears that may have escaped. 

“Here,” Malcom said softly as he produced a large blue box with the words Tiffany & Co. printed onto it. Minerva looked up at her father curiously. 

“What is this for?” She asked, playing with one of the box’s corners. 

“It’s my present for you,” he told her with a bright smile, and Minerva smiled back at him. “Open it when you get in the carriage. You don’t want to keep the nice man over there waiting.” 

Minerva looked at the box thoughtfully then back up to her father and nodded.

“Bye,” the Princess whispered with a sad smile as she walked up to the carriage and Pegasus, allowing herself to be helped up inside. 

“Are you comfortable, Your Highness?” The coach man asked and Minerva nodded with a polite smile. 

She waved at her father one last time just before the carriage door had closed. 

Minerva leaned back with a sigh, feeling the warmth of a tear trickling down the side of her face. 

Oliver had crawled from his spot in the corner of the cushioned seats, laying his back on her lap. Minerva smiled down at the little cat, rubbing his exposed belly gently. 

“Excuse me, Sir?” Minerva called. 

“Yes, Milady?” He answered. 

“Aren’t we picking up any other students on the way?” She asked him, still rubbing Oliver’s stomach. 

“Traditionally, we do. But you’re a Princess and you are the only student coming from Scotland. So you would be the only one here.” The man explained and Minerva nodded in understanding. 

“Thank you,” she said with a polite smile. 

The coach man cracked the reigns of the Pegasus Minerva sighed heavily.

She looked out the window and down to the grounds of Rose Castle.

If Minerva had been born a boy, none of this would have happened. She would have gone to Hogwarts. Maybe she’d be the heir to the throne. 

But she was born a woman. Being born a woman came with unrealistic expectationsand an unspoken duty to the man she would one day marry. 

It just wasn’t fair.

**•tbc•**


	2. Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: UNLESS IT IS MINERVA SPEAKING OR SOMEONE FROM HOGWARTS (WHICH WILL HAPPEN LATER ON IN THE STORY) THEY DO HAVE A FRENCH ACCENT. I KNOW THAT IN THE BOOKS THEIR ACCENTS ARE WRITTEN AS WELL (I.E. WE 'AVE NONE OF ZIS IN ZE 'ALLS). BUT I HONESTLY DON'T THINK I CAN WRITE THAT WAY BECAUSE I'M BOUND TO BUTCHER IT. SO IF A BEAUXBATONS STUDENT OR STAFF MEMBER SPEAKS, JUST IMAGINE THE FRENCH ACCENT. THANK YOU!

_Smiling for miles_   
_In pink dresses and high heels_   
_And white yachts_   
_But I'm not that_

**•September 1, 1947•**   
_Across the North Sea_

**5:00 PM**

A tiny lick to her cheek is what had startled Minerva out of her sleep. She cracked open one eye to find Oliver millimeters away from her face.

"What are you doing?" She laughed quietly as the kitten pawed at her nose. Minerva blew out a puff of air from her nostrils, causing Oliver to retract his paw quickly.

"How do you feel about going to France, Oliver?" She asked the cat who looked up at her with big blue eyes at the sound of his name. "Do you even know where France is?" She added, her voice rising in pitch to amuse the little thing.

The Scottish Princess laughed loudly as Oliver playfully pounced on her. Once she had managed to pry his claws from her dress, she held in from of her by the scruff.

He dangled there for a few minutes, not really minding the way he was currently being held.

Minerva tickled his stomach with a manicured finger and pulled back quickly when he bared his claws.

"Well, that was rude." She told the cat who did not seem to care about what she had to say on his behavior. Finally letting the kitten go, she let Oliver explore the small space of the carriage.

The girl snickered as she watched her cat rub his scent glands... everywhere. As Oliver did whatever it was he was doing, Minerva picked up the only personal book she brought with her.

It was the book Papa read the day she was born. And the book that gave her the inspiration to name her Minerva.

She ran her fingers along the leather bound cover and the indents of its spine fondly. It had only been an hour, but she missed her Papa dearly.

Sniffing lightly, Minerva shook herself out of her emotional state and snuggled under the tartan afghan she brought along.

She would be the only Scot in a school full of French... and a few other countries probably, but definitely not Scotland.

Rubbing her arms for comfort, Minerva felt her wand under the sleeve of her dress. Gasping lightly, she tugged the wand from the strap that held it in place.

Minerva fingered the wand for a while, sitting in a daze as she waited until they had reached their destination.

"Your Highness," the coach man called from the front, startling Minerva from her reverie.

"Yes?" She answered, sitting up straighter and smoothing her hair down.

"We're about to land," he informed and Minerva nodded as she plucked Oliver up into her lap. She let him nibble on her fingers for a while, realizing he was getting hungry.

The sound of neighs caused Minerva to jump slightly and peek out through the curtains of the carriage. She was awed by the other carriages and she could hear the other students laughing from the inside.

The Princess gasped as the carriages shifted downward, barely registering the coach man's apology. From what she could see, the older students had already arrived.

Taking a calming breath, Minerva steeled her nerves as she recalled all of the things her mother and governess taught her as a younger child.

_Straighten your back._

_A single hair should not be out of place._

_Carry yourself with dignity._

_Hold yourself with grace._

Minerva heard the chattering of students as they landed with the other carriages. Cheers could be heard from the outside and Minerva's peeked out to see what has happened.

From what she could see from her position, the headmistress has arrived.

"Is that the Headmistress?" She asked the coach man quietly, leaning forward so he could hear here.

"Indeed. Madame Lea Devereaux has been the Beauxbatons Headmistress for six years now," the coach man answered.

"Does she always do this when First Years arrive?" Minerva asked, feeling a little bad for asking so many questions.

The man shook his head. "No. I don't remember her ever doing that."

"Alright," Minerva responded simply, choosing to sit back as the Pegasus trotted its way to where everyone else had stood.

"Would you like me to take your cat and anything else with me so you could get out easier?" He offered politely and Minerva smiled at him.

"Thank you. That would be greatly appreciated," she told him with a nod.

Folding her book into the afghan neatly and making sure Oliver was alright, Minerva inhaled one more time to calm herself.

Smoothing out the imaginary wrinkles of her white dress, adjusting the Georgian headpiece of garland leaves and floral clusters, she shook her hands to keep them from twitching.

The Princess sheathed her wand back into its strap and straightened her back just like she was taught to do so.

Soon enough, her carriage was the final one and everyone stood expectantly. Minerva heard as the coach man left his perch to open her door. When he did, he held out a hand for her to take and he guided her down.

Minerva smiled at the man in thanks once she was steady on her feet and he ushered her up to the Headmistress.

"Call her Madame Devereaux," she heard him whisper in her ear.

"Madame Devereaux," Minerva greeted in what her mother would call her 'diplomatic' voice. "Thank you for taking me in, I know Beauxbatons doesn't normally accept students from Scotland."

"It is our pleasure, Your Highness." The Headmistress replied and went to bow when Minerva held out her hands to stop her.

"There really is no need to do that," she laughed nervously. The older woman got to her feet quickly and smiled. When she stood up straight, the Princess managed to get a good look at her.

Lea Devereaux was a tall woman with cold blue eyes and silver hair. A shawl of mink's fur was wrapped around her shoulders, a simple black floor-length robe underneath the heavy garment. The Headmistress smiled at the young girl and nodded, placing a guiding hand on her back.

Madame Devereaux snapped her fingers loudly, indicating that all students should start to walking into the palace.

Minerva looked around, awed at all of the marble and glittering gold of the school's halls. The Princess looked straight ahead, ignoring the stares and whispers coming from behind her. Her eyes widened as they entered the Dining Chamber, her gaze fixated on the large crystal chandelier in the middle of the arched ceiling.

Speaking of the ceiling, it had been painted the muggle way, its deities frozen in time as their hands reached out for one another.

 _The Creation of Adam_ , a voice in Minerva's head popped in. A voice that sounded suspiciously like her Papa. A shuffle was heard behind her and the girl turned around to see all of the older students sitting at their designated tables and all of the first years (including herself) had been ushered to the front of the chamber.

A large man with a bushy mustache stepped forward, he was starting to bald at the top of his head and he reminded Minerva of Horace Slughorn. Of course, she never met Hogwarts' Potions Master directly but she had seen him once or twice at formal events.

The man pulled his wand out from Merlin knows where (and frankly, some things were better off a mystery), pointing it slightly up towards the ceiling when a spark of light had silenced the crowd.

"Welcome to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic!" He boomed.

"I am Monsieur Ambroise, I am the Charms Master and Deputy Headmaster of this school."

"First year students will be sorted to their houses. You will pull the string of this bow back," he gestured to the weapon that had been brought in as he spoke.

It was propped up onto a pillow and it seemed to be made of a silvery light. It was a fairly simple design compared to the rest of the Palace's interior, much to Minerva's shock.

"And an arrow will start to form, so do not be alarmed when it starts to happen. Once it has been fully formed, you will release the arrow straight down the middle," he pointed to the empty space in the middle of the chamber.

"After the arrow has been released, it will burst into sparks of the house color you have been sorted into. Unlike Hogwarts," Minerva grimaced at the Scottish school's name.

"There are three houses instead of four. The sparks are purple, you would be in Papillionlisse. If blue, you are OmbreLune. Green, you are Bellefeuille." He looked at the young students intently. "Do we have any questions?" He nodded when there were no hands raised.

"Then let us begin. Arquette, Jade!" A confident redhead stepped up, plucking the bow from the pillow it rested on. When her arrow had been released, it burst into sparks of blue."

The table furthest away from them had applauded.

"OmbreLune!" The Deputy Headmaster called. Jade smiled triumphantly and skipped to her new house's table.

The ceremony continued on that way up until Monsieur Ambroise got to her name.

"McGonagall, Minerva..." he trailed off and brought the parchment closer to his face as if he didn't believe what was written. The entire room fell silent and suddenly all eyes were to the remaining group of First Years.

The staff at the High Table looked at each other in confusion. Minerva sighed to herself. If they fussed over her, she just might explode.

Standing up straight she walked up to the Deputy Headmaster as she waited for him to hand her the bow. The plump man handed it to her quickly and Minerva pulled the string, waiting as the silver arrow formed completely.

Holding a bow felt familiar in her hands. It reminded her of home. And of her Papa. The Princess focused as she recalled being taught how to shoot an arrow for the first time.

Minerva released the arrow once it had been completed and watched with bated breath as it soared through the air. Soon enough, it burst into sparks of green and the table to the far right cheered loudly.

"Bellefeuille!" The Charms Master exclaimed after getting over his initial shock. Minerva handed him the bow and walked down the steps to greet her new house mates.

She smiled shyly as they made room for her on the table, folding her hands in her lap once she sat down.

After the last student had been sorted, Madame Devereaux stood up from her seat.

"To our returning students, welcome back for another year here at Beauxbatons. We look forward to the events we have planned this year. But all will be revealed in good time. As always, leaving the Palace grounds without a staff member is strictly forbidden.

"Your curfew is at 9:00 every night and those seen out after hours will be punished. Your Heads of Houses will be with you every step of the way and will help you when you ask for it."

Minerva surveyed the room discreetly, noting how proper everyone seemed. As she continued to look around, the Princess couldn't help but dream of Hogwarts. How she would imagine her Sorting Ceremony there would be like.

Both of her parents had been in Ravenclaw, and it seemed inevitable that was where she would be Sorted into.

"Excuse me?" A voice to her left asked, and Minerva turned to see a tall blonde girl staring up at her.

"Yes?" Minerva answered, turning her body to face her.

"I'm Lucille," she said holding a hand out to shake. Minerva took it and smiled politely.

"Minerva," she replied with a nod.

"I know," Lucille told her. "We heard all your name being called. Is it true your Scottish?"

"The accent doesn't give it away?" Minerva asked, arching a brow. Lucille shrugged, unaffected by the heavy sarcasm in Minerva's tone. "What year are you in?" Minerva questioned her, changing the subject.

"I'm a Fifth Year," the blonde replied. "You should be our dormmate."

"Who's our?"

"My friends and I," Lucille clarified. "It's an unspoken rule of our House that a First Year would room with older students as they get used to the school. You can stay with us," she offered.

Although slightly taken aback by the immediate invitation, Minerva nodded mutely.

"Does that mean you will?" The older student asked, and Minerva nodded again.

Madame Devereaux clapped twice, and nymphs waltzed through the Dining Chamber's doors, carrying trays of food with them.

Minerva stared at the food in front of her and sighed. She's be living here for the next seven years of her life. She may as well get used to it.

**•January 5, 1952•**   
_Girls' Dormitory_

**8:00 PM**

The Scot walked to her designated bed, finding Oliver all curled up on one of her pillows. How he got there before her luggage did (which still wasn't here) was a mystery.

It was nice to be back, in all honesty. As much as she loved being back in Scotland, Minerva didn't think she could spend another week with her mother. The woman was growing more insufferable by the minute.

Lucille walked into their shared dormitory, a girl with dirty blonde hair right next to her.

"Madeline!" Minerva yelled loudly, startling the older girl.

"Minerva!" She yelled back just as loud.

Lucille flopped on Minerva's bed as well, giving Oliver a scratch behind the ears. The cat sneezed in response and began to lick his paws.

"How was your break?" Minerva asked the two and Madeline sighed dreamily.

"We went shopping! It's so much more fun buying things at muggle stores, I have to say." Lucille hummed in agreement.

"I've never been muggle shopping before," Minerva admitted, much to Lucille and Madeline's shock.

"Never?" Madeline asked in disbelief.

Minerva shrugged.

"Maybe once or twice when I was younger but I don't recall much of it." Lucille continued to stare at her in disbelief. "Have you unpacked already?" Minerva asked Madeline, knowing for a fact that Lucille hadn't if the large suitcase on her bed said anything about it.

"Yes... but have you?" Madeline asked back, looking around the room to see no bags.

"It hasn't been sent up yet," the Princess replied.

"When your luggage gets here, we'll help you put them in the closets," Madeline informed her and Minerva nodded again.

A knock sounded at the door and Madeline stood to open it. The coach man that had brought her here had her suitcases in tow.

"Milady," he bowed lightly before dragging in her things. Lucille shot her a confused look at the 'Milady' but Minerva pretended to ignore it.

"Thank you," she told the man once he had put the bags down.

He bowed his head in acknowledgment and shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"Did Mr Stuart just call you 'Milady?'" Madeline asked with her arms crossed.

"Is that a headband made of diamonds?" A voice screeched from the doorway causing Minerva to jump slightly.

"W-what?" She said, dumbfounded. "Who are you?"

The plump brunette waved off Minerva's question and marched up to her.

"Bend your head," the older girl demanded and Minerva simply stared.

"What for?" The Princess asked, stepping back slightly.

"I want to see the headband!" She demanded and Minerva nodded in understanding.

"Oh... well, alright." With that, Minerva gently pried the tiara/headpiece out of her hair and gingerly handed it to the girl.

"Her name is Gabriella," she heard Madeline call out from inside the closet. "She has a weird thing about royalty, you'll get used to it. Don't worry."

"What thing about royalty?" Minerva called back.

"Everyone has the one thing they know a lot about. Gabriella's thing are European Royal Families. She's in OmbreLune, that's why you don't see much of her.." Lucille informed Minerva with a resigned sigh.

"Why?" The Fifth Year asked, flopping down on her bed as Gabriella continued to examine her tiara.

Lucille shrugged.

"We all have our quirks," she replied simply. Minerva hummed in agreement and said no more.

"Minerva, give me your clothes. I made space for you," Madeline said as she emerged from the closets. The girl gestured to her bags on the floor.

"Which clothes are your nicest?" The blonde asked her pointedly and Minerva shrugged.

"All of them..?" Minerva stated, although it sounded more like a question. Madeline rolled her eyes at the girl's response.

"Really? All of them?" She mocked, going to open her bags. Madeline pulled out a silk blouse and a cashmere sweater from said bag.

"You know what? I will sort all of these out for you," she said as she dragged all of the bags into the closet with her.

Two minutes later, Madeline emerged with a familiar looking blue box in her hand.

"Done so quick?" Lucille asked in amusement.

"I told you I was getting better at Charms," Madeline retorted with a self satisfied smirk. "This box was on top of your bags," she told Minerva, holding it out to her.

Minerva took it with a smile. She had forgotten about the present her Papa gave her before she boarded the carriage over five years ago. How had she forgotten about it?

Papa certainly didn't say anything about it she came home for the holidays the first time.

"Thank you," she said sincerely and practically felt Lucille lean over her shoulder to read the print on the box.

"Tiffany's?" The blonde asked in shock. "You shop at Tiffany's? But that all the way in New York! And I thought you said you don't shop in the muggle world."

Minerva shrugged.

"As I said, I don't. It was a gift from my father. A congratulatory present, I suppose. He gave it to me moments before I left," she explained.

"Have you opened it yet?" Madeline asked curiously, bending down to look at the box again. Minerva shook her head.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Open it!" Lucille yelled, and Minerva winced audibly. "Sorry," the older girl murmured in a much softer voice.

Looking up at Lucille, Madeline and Gabrielle, who was still closely examining her tiara. Minerva opened the box slowly and she could hear the two girls gasped at what it held.

Gingerly taking the necklace out of its velvet cushioning, Minerva held it up to dangle in front of her.

It was a simple necklace. A dainty silver chain that held a sizable tear shaped diamond as its pendant. There was a small, flat charm next to the diamond and Minerva brought it closer to her face to read the inscription.

_Queen of Scots_

The minuscule print read, and she smiled fondly.

"It's beautiful," Lucille whispered, and the Princess nodded in agreement.

"It is, isn't it?" She responded softly.

A loud gasp from Gabrielle startled the other three girls from their reverie.

"What is it?" Madeline asked in alarm. "Are you alright?"

Gabrielle looked up at her and nodded frantically.

"I know why this looks so familiar to me now," she said, holding up Minerva's tiara. Gabrielle looked directly at the Princess.

"This is a tiara that once belonged to Mary, Queen of Scots." She said confidently.

"Yes. And?" Minerva asked, not seeing where the current conversation was going. "Why does that matter?"

Gabrielle smirked proudly.

"You're the Princess of Scotland, aren't you?"

**•tbc•**


End file.
